


A Matter of Fashion

by vivaldis_lover



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: At least questionable for Mickey, Emil has a questionable fashion sense, Fighting over shoes, M/M, Post-Canon, Sara has a cameo, i honestly don't know how to tag this, this is me trying to be funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivaldis_lover/pseuds/vivaldis_lover
Summary: There are a few things Michele and Emil fight about and there are a few things Michele just can't allow. His stubbornness leads to an unexpected fight about a pair of shoes.





	A Matter of Fashion

It was the end of March, the world championship in Milan had just ended and the weather was exceptionally warm. All the medals had been won and a few skaters were still in the city, before catching their flights. Only in a hotel room, drama was unfolding between two skaters.

“They’re the epitome of comfort!” said Emil.

“No, they’re the epitome of ugliness!” protested Michele, pointing at Emil’s sandals.

The shoes in question were not any kind of shoes. They were a particular kind of sandal, somehow particularly appreciated by northerners. The infamous Birkenstock: brown, drab, unaesthetic and basically everything that went against the Italian fashion sense. The worst was when they were worn with white socks, a crime generally committed by middle-aged men coming from Germany. Most Italians could claim to have seen at least one sun burnt German tourist strolling around wearing those sandals.

“Who’s gonna care anyway?”asked Emil, polemically.

Michele looked at him like he had just said an heresy. “We care! Believe me, those people out there will see these abominations and they’re gonna remember. We always remember the Germans in Birkenstock and white socks! And they won’t forgive you.”

Emil started laughing. “This is way too dramatic, Mickey!”

“ _And_ we’re in Milan!” Michele went on. “The city of fashion! Think about them. Do you really want them to see _this_?” he asked, pointing at Emil’s sandals.

Emil didn’t know what else to say. He was somewhere between amused, incredulous and exasperated. “Mickey… It’s just a pair of shoes.”

“It’s not! It’s an act of war against good taste. And I won’t let my boyfriend go around like that.” It was the voice of someone who didn’t tolerate any objection.

They stood, facing each other, for a few seconds, Michele with his arms crossed on his chest and a stern expression painted on his face. Emil was still incredulous, but then he couldn’t fight a cheeky smile. He placed his hands on the hips and looked at Michele, in a provocative demeanor.

“Okay, I’ll take them off. Just let me go to the bathroom.” He walked past Michele and grabbed a pair of socks, without the other noticing.

When he came out of the bathroom, the Italian almost had a stroke.

“You put on _white socks_?!” he exclaimed. “And you didn’t take off your shoes!”

Emil sat on the bed. “This is a declaration of war,” he said. “You’ll have to fight me to take these sandals off me.”

Michele got closer, threateningly. “I will.”

He tried to grab Emil’s feet, but the other quickly moved his legs. The Italian decided to adopt drastic measures and straight up tackled Emil, pinning him to the mattress. Somehow he managed to turn, so his back was now facing Emil. He finally grabbed one of his boyfriend’s feet and threw the sandal across the room. Emil started laughing, as he tried to free his leg from Michele’s grasp and wriggle away. He was careful enough to not accidentally kick Michele’s face.

Actually, at that point Michele couldn’t stay serious anymore. He still felt loath and disgust for those horrible sandals, but the current situation was hilarious even for him. He bit his lip to suppress his laughter.

“I know you’re laughing,” he heard Emil say.

“Absolutely not!”

“Just give up, Mickey. You’ll never take those socks off me,” he said, finally breaking free. He threw himself on Michele and they both rolled on the floor, with Emil on top, this time.

“It’s a matter of pride, now!” said Michele, almost laughing.

Emil wrapped his arms around Michele’s chest and placed his mouth on his boyfriend’s hollow neck, a place where Michele _loved_ being kissed or bitten. But this was not the time to be sexy and so Emil started blowing raspberries on Michele’s neck.

“What the heck, Emil!” exclaimed Michele, now laughing uncontrollably. “Stop!”

Emil, instead of stopping, lifted Michele’s shirt and blew raspberries on his belly, too. Someone knocked at the door, but they didn’t hear them.

The door opened.

“Mickey, are you and Emil ready?” It was Sara.

There was an awkward moment, when the twins made eye contact. With all their fighting, Michele and Emil had almost forgot that they were supposed to go for a walk with Sara and Mila. The girl froze when she saw the position the boys were in – Emil standing between Michele’s legs and lifting his shirt. She walked back, slowly.

“I’m gonna leave you two guys alone,” she said closing the door.

Emil and Michele stared at the door and then stared at each other.

“She thought-“

“Probably.”

Michele face-palmed. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, giggling.

Emil run a hand on his boyfriend’s chest. “Do you still want to go?” he asked, in a low, husky voice.

Michele moaned. “I don’t know. Can you make me change my mind?” he replied with a smirk.

“I can try,” said Emil. He got closer and whispered in Michele’s ear: “Whatever we do, I’m still gonna wear the Birkenstock.”

Michele groaned. “Goddammit, Emil.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to be funnier for the Italians, but whatever. If you are not familiar with them, the brand Birkenstock produces a kind of sandal particularly hated and considered terribly unfashionable here in Italy - or at least where I live. The sun burnt Germans in white socks is a bit of a stereotype, but it is something I whitnessed.   
> As usual, if you see mistakes, tell me.


End file.
